Enemies
by AJ Manderz
Summary: She had saved his life, but she still lost him. He felt the anger bubble up inside him, felt it course through him like a second life. He could live with the hate, as long as it took the pain away. Betrayer. Friend. Nikita. Inspired by episode 9: One Way
1. No Take Backs

_This fic is inspired by tonight's episode of Nikita, episode 9 "One Way." It follows our characters into division after Michael's failure. :( Was anyone close to crying? I was!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but I wish I did!_

* * *

**1. No Take Backs**

She had saved his life, but she still lost him. He'd changed since she knew him. Filled with Percy's lies; the man was like a toxin, he seeped into the pores, infected everyone around him with his corruption. She thought Michael was her friend. Besides Alex, he had been her only friend…

Her computer read Alex's words back to her in the slower, modulated voice of her protégé: "What are you going to do now? Michael won't trust you."

_I'm not sure he ever did before. Percy's got to him. He's changed._

"But if he has time…"

_There isn't any. Not when he's full of Percy. Not when he's like that._

"I could talk to him somehow."

_No. No one knows about his family except for Percy and me. I'd like to keep it that way._

"But you'll need help."

_He'll come around. He has to…if he doesn't…_

Alex stared at the computer monitor for a good minute. "Sensei?"

Nikita wiped at the tears on her cheeks before she typed out her reply. Her fingers felt like ice. She was so cold.

_I need to find Owen. I need to find that Black box._

_

* * *

_

Jaden slammed her locker shut, her towel draped around her neck. Alex leaned against the locker next to her, a smirk on her face. It was almost lunch time. They were the only two left in the locker room after morning workouts.

"PMS much?"

"Shut up, bitch. Just because you got to me, doesn't mean we're friends."

"Admit it. You liked being on the same side for once."

"Why were you snooping on the doctor's computer? What were you looking for?"

"I wasn't snooping. He took advantage of me. I knew they wouldn't believe me without your help."

"Sure, I _bet_ he _pushed_ you..." Jaden stepped closer to Alex, who straightened from her slouch. "_Bitch." _

Alex slammed her against the locker. "Shut up!"

Jaden hit her across the face and when Alex fell to the ground she pounced on her.

"I can't believe you had the nerve to blackmail me," she growled as she sat on Alex's back and yanked her head back by her hair.

Alex cried out. "Let me go!"

"Shut up! How did you find that entrance? How did you know it was there?"

Alex squirmed beneath her. She swung her arm back and connected with Jaden's head. With a cry, she slammed Jaden into a locker.

* * *

"Uh, Michael, you might want to look at this," said Birkhoff from his computer. He was munching on a powdered donut. He swirled around in his chair to see Michael coming from the direction of Percy's office. Michael's face was still beat up, his one eye blue and red, the side of his mouth swollen. He was limping slightly. He held himself uncomfortably upright. Broken ribs, Birkhoff thought. But he was sure it wasn't broken ribs that was bothering him this time…

"What?" said Michael.

Birkhoff nodded to the security monitors up on the wall several feet above their heads in front of the room. "Camera 33. Jaden and Alex. Fighting again. Want me to call a guard?"

Michael stared at the computer screen. "What are they yelling at each other?"

"Want to go find out?"

Michael gave him a look. There was something too suggestive about the way he said that. "Call a guard. Before they kill each other."

He turned his back on Birkhoff and limped back towards his office, his shoulders stiff. Birkhoff wondered, not for the first time, if a person really could carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.

* * *

Amanda lit a short, white candle on the coffee table in front of them.

"This is interesting. Just yesterday you two were actually working together. I wonder what changed."

Alex folded her arms across her chest. Both dressed in their sweat pants and tank tops, she had a cut next to her lip and a black eye. Jaden bore a large bruise across the left side of her forehead.

"Nothing's changed," said Alex, she blinked her eyes. The candle was making her feel sleepy. The smell of jasmine wrapped up inside her nose, made it hard to breathe. "_What _is that candle?"

Slumped against the opposite side of the sofa, as far away as she could possible get, Jaden gave her a strange look. "It's called, Jasmine, genius. And it smells good."

"She's going to drug us."

"Relax, Alex," said Amanda and then smiled. "I'm not going to drug you."

Jaden shot Alex a look. "What is she talking about?"

"Must be allergic…" muttered Alex, and then coughed.

"Ladies," said Amanda and this time the smile was more forced then before. "I want to talk about what happened today. Jaden, why don't you start?"

Jaden just stared at her like she had grown three heads. Then her expression grew blank and she sighed as if defeated. "It was stupid things," she muttered. "Girl stuff."

"A guy," said Alex. She sat up straighter. "I said I thought I liked someone and then she flew at me."

"I did not-"

"_Girls_. As you know division does not allow relationships…"

"A girl can't help herself sometimes can she?" said Jaden, playing along.

And Alex thought Amanda almost smiled for real. This time, her eyes didn't look quite so dead inside, but then the woman cleared her throat.

"Division doesn't encourage relationships," she said, her face serious. "Whatever you think is happening," she looked between them both, "end it now."

* * *

Michael slumped in his office chair, coffee cup in his right hand, but he didn't drink it, just stared at the computer monitor that wasn't even on.

_"Daddy!" _said his little girl's voice in his ear. He scrunched his eyes shut. He saw them in the car. Hot, stuffy, beautiful day. And the words he had said to his wife: _"I'll always love you…" _Reverberated inside his head. _"I'll always love you…"_ His coffee cup fell to the ground as he cradled his head in his hands.

He wished he couldn't hear their voices, he wished he couldn't see their faces. But they were there, like he saw them yesterday and the anger bubbled up inside him, consumed him. He felt it course through him like a second life. He could live with the hate, if it took away the pain. It should have been finished. He should have been with them…

Betrayer. Rogue. _Friend_. Nikita.

She had ruined everything. He knew he couldn't trust her. Knew he should have never trusted her…

"Michael," said Birkhoff's voice through the intercom.

Michael pressed a button on the phone next to his computer. "What?"

"Percy wants to see you."

"What, now?"

And then it was Percy's voice he heard instead. "Now, Michael."

* * *

Birkhoff's hands flew across his keyboard as he spoke. "This just in from Montreal," he said. He jabbed a key and then sat back in his chair. A black and white picture of Nikita outside a phone booth wearing a dark leather jacket popped up onto the screen. "Traffic camera picked it up. 10:30 today."

Michael looked at his watch. Almost one o'clock.

"What's the course of action?" said Michael. He stared at the photograph, eyes dark.

Something in Percy's face noted Michael's brooding and relished in it. "Two man op, you and Thom. He and Nikita have some history together. I'm sure he'll want to get even."

"He's been on two missions. Nikita took him down both times."

"Then I'm sure he'll have all the more reason to keep fighting her. Best to even the score…isn't that right, Michael?"

"When's the plane?"

"Birkhoff."

"Booking," said Birkhoff as his hands rattled across the keyboard. "Done!"

"I want her dead this time, Michael. No take backs."

Birkhoff's head swiveled between Percy and Michael, and then Michael, who never lost his cold expression. Birkhoff was afraid then…and Michael's soldier stance unsettled him. He watched them leave the room without saying a word.

He grabbed his redbull and then stared down at it, feeling suddenly tired. He sighed.

"Bye, Niki..."


	2. Dead Ends

_This chapter follows Nikita on her search for Owen and follows Michael on his search for Nikita, lol. There isn't much of Alex, Percy or Amanda in this chapter I'm afraid. I used the previews we've seen for the next new episode as my inspiration. The plan was to keep it as close to the original story as possible, but I couldn't help playing into the "What If" scenarios here. Anywho... Happy late Thanksgiving everyone!_ :)

* * *

**2. Dead Ends**

He had no cell phone. No tracking device. Finding Owen when he didn't want to be found, to Nikita, was like trying to find _her_ when she didn't want to be found. Impossible.

* * *

"Have you got her?" said Michael into Birkhoff's ear, who was back at Division. Birkhoff sat in front of his computer, chewing on a twizzler.

On his computer monitor, as well as on all the TVs on the wall in front of him, was a video of Nikita kneeling in front of a headstone, her hands searching frantically around in the green grass.

"Yep. She looks good."

"Birkhoff. What's she doing?"

"She's at the cemetery, Michael. Is it just me…or do you feel like we've been here before?"

"She's looking for clues at Emily's grave," said Michael.

"She's trying to find Owen?" guessed Birkhoff. Percy had filled them in.

"Yes. Let me know if anything changes."

Just then, the video Nikita stood up and walked out of the screen.

"Whoa, heads up, she's leaving the scene now, Michael." His hands flew across his keyboard. "Getting her on satellite."

"Where's she going?"

"She just got into a red Volvo." Birkhoff whistled. "Nice car."

He typed something else. A new screen popped up. It was video from a traffic camera. A black truck just ran into a red car at an intersection. A man got out and ran towards the car. He pulled an unconscious woman with dark hair from the passenger side door and began dragging her across the pavement.

"Nikita was in a car accident, Michael. Someone's taking the body. I can't see his face."

"Is she hurt? What's wrong? What happened?"

"A truck sideswiped her. She's unconscious."

* * *

Nikita felt someone's hands biting into her underarms, felt the heels of her boots drag across the pavement. For a second she wondered if she was dead, if her blurry vision was any indication and then it cleared and she remembered. She was leaving the cemetery and a black truck had run a red light and sideswiped her.

She turned her head and saw someone's hand, their wrist, a silver watch, a dark boot. Nothing. She smelled men's cologne. Michael didn't wear cologne. Only aftershave. Had told her with a grin one time, in that smoky voice of his that he preferred to smell like the earth. Rich, and dark and clean…

Wait. Focus.

She found her feet and swung her elbow back into the man's temple. He grunted as he grabbed her arm and twisted it around her back. She kicked him in the shin, but he quickly pulled her arm around and flipped her over onto the pavement. Her head cracked hard against the cold ground. _Ow. _She was still dizzy from the car crash.

She looked up into the face of…

"Owen?"

"You're a hard person to have a conversation with, you know that?" he said, sounding winded as he offered her his hand. He smirked as she came to her feet without his help.

"Get in the car," he said "I need your help."

Nikita bent over at the waist. She groaned. "You couldn't call?"

"I don't have your number."

"That's funny."

He looked around at the cars that were stopping near the intersection. Someone yelled something out his car window, something about crazy people standing in the middle of the road. The sound of a police siren was growing closer.

"For a cleaner, you're sloppy." Nikita took a deep breath as she straightened. "Tell me why I shouldn't just let them come find us? Do you have the black box?"

"I'll take you to it. Just get in the car, Nikita." He held the door open to his large truck, which besides a bent fender was mostly unharmed. Her poor red Volvo on the other hand, wasn't. "Please. We've got a problem."

He backed away from the wreck and drove up the side of the road and then through another red light. Nikita sucked in her breath as a car swerved around them and then crashed head on into another car. They drove away to the sound of car horns blazing behind them.

Nikita glanced back at her mutilated Volvo and then glared at Owen in the driver's seat. "I liked that car."

They drove for a few minutes without saying anything. And then five miles down the road, Owen parked the truck in front of a pharmacy and they slipped into someone's black ford Taurus, who had conveniently left the keys in the ignition.

With the stress of the police now falling behind them, Owen spoke as he sped up the open stretch of highway, heading for the airport. "I was at Emily's grave when your pal, that old geezer caught up with me."

"What are you talking about?"

"Gogol. He wanted to make a trade, he said. He wouldn't tell me what."

"How do you know Gogol?"

"How do _you _know Gogol?" said Owen.

Nikita didn't answer. "He's bluffing," she said.

Owen shrugged. "Possibly. But he knew where to find me. What do you think about that?"

"You're not thinking of working with them? Gogol is just as worse as Percy. If they get their hands on that black box-"

"Relax, they won't."

"What's your plan? Why did you want me here? You wanted to do this alone."

"I think Gogol has already found one."

"What?"

"At least an agent who's guarding one. What else would he have to trade?"

"Besides you?" She thought a moment. "So he's going to offer her life in exchange for the black box…"

"What makes you think it's a women?"

"Ari Tasperov has weaknesses."

Owen looked skeptical. "Percy only asked certain people to guard his black boxes. People he trusted."

"He asked me."

Owen stared at her for moment. "So that's why. That's how you meant Daniel. That's why you were there so long."

She looked away out the window. "I don't want to talk about Daniel."

"Why did you ask me about Michael before?"

She turned back around. "What?"

"You asked me if Michael knew about the kill order. Why?"

Nikita watched the landscape fly passed them for a moment. They passed a river, a recreational park, a small café and a laundry mat.

Owen pushed back on his seat and then settled back down. He clutched the steering wheel in front of him. He looked into the rearview mirror. "Why'd you ask me?" He noticed a gray vehicle switch lanes and sneak up behind them.

Nikita's eyes followed his. She glanced back at the car behind them. She cursed. "It's Michael. When did Gogol want you to meet him?"

"Tomorrow at noon. Le petite fleur café."

"We need to lose him. Turn left here on this bridge."

"What makes you think you're the one giving the orders?"

Her eyebrows rose. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

* * *

Michael caught up to them when they swerved down a backstreet and had to avoid an old lady toddling out into the road with her cane and small rat-like terrier. Thom's face tightened at the narrow miss but he didn't say a word.

"Who's Owen?" He asked Michael. "Another rogue agent?"

"You can say that," gritted Michael as he stepped on the gas and nosed the Taurus's bumper.

Thom braced himself as they went swerving down a narrow lane after them. They were out in the country now. They passed a large house every several hundred feet.

"You're going to run us off the road."

"That's the point."

"Michael," said Thom just as the Taurus swerved into a ditch and smashed itself into a tree on the passenger's side. They skidded to a stop just as Owen stumbled out of the driver's side of the destroyed vehicle.

Michael fired his gun at him. But the man had crawled up over a ridge and into someone's front yard and disappeared. The car was smoking. _Nikita_.

They pulled her out from the driver's side. She was unconscious.

"Is she dead?" Thom asked as they laid her out in the grass underneath a tree.

A large shard of glass stuck out from her chest, her face was bruised and cut up and bleeding. Her left arm was mangled, twisted awkwardly beneath her. More glass was imbedded in her right leg. What had he done?

"Oh God…Nikita…"

Michael knelt down and tore the clothing away from her bleeding chest. He pressed his hands against her bleeding flesh and heard a sucking sound as it began to froth an ugly red. Had her lung collapsed? There was so much blood. So much of it. It stained his hands and he couldn't make it stop.

"Michael!" said Thom's voice from very far away. "She's finished. You've done your job. We have to report this back to Percy."

"We have to get her to a hospital." He heard himself say through numb lips. "Percy will take her alive."

Thom grabbed his arm but he shook him off. "No!"

"She's dead, Michael."

"No. Help me." He took off his shirt and ripped it into pieces, and pressed them against the wound. "There's a kit in my jacket. Get it for me."

"Michael…"

"Do it!" He pressed his hands around the wound. Her lips were turning blue. He felt her pulse, it was fading. He leaned down close, felt her ragged breath against her cheek. "Come on Nikita…"

Thom stood along the side of the road feeling torn at Michael's anguish. Suddenly he missed Alex. Missed her cool-headedness. She always held her own. Never betrayed her emotions. Compared to her, he suddenly felt like a coward.

He ran his hands through Michael's jacket, where it had been thrown on the ground beside him and then tossed him the kit. "I'm going to track down Owen."

"Go then." He barely heard Thom's footsteps as he crunched loudly over dead leaves and up the embankment.

Michael didn't look up from Nikita's body. Her skin was so white. Bloody and white. This was his fault…why hadn't she been wearing a vest? Did she even own one anymore?

Her eyes flickered open. "Michael." Her voice was a faint rasp; blood trickled down the corner of her mouth. Her eyes widened in shock.

"No…no…no…"

He felt her hand graze his and then fall back down to her side. She had been trying to grab his arm.

"Just let it be," she mumbled.

"Don't," he said as he took a small syringe from the kit and stuck her in the thigh.

"Such a waste…" Her eyes flickered and dulled.

"You're not a waste." Feeling numb, he unrolled some tape and wrapped it around the shard of glass sticking out from her chest, tried to seal the wound. He ran his hands underneath her back, no blood there, it hadn't gone all the way through.

There was nothing else he could do. Underneath his hands he could feel her heartbeat slow. Was her blood really cooling or was that the air that blew cool against the tears and sweat on his face?

"Let it go," she gasped. Her eyes rolled up into the back of her head and she sunk completely into the cold, hard ground.

He stood suddenly and stared down at her body and the fear was greater than any he had ever felt. Had he finally killed her? Was it finally done?

"Michael," said Thom in Michael's ear. "Owen's gone. There's no trace of him."

"It doesn't matter, get over here. We've got a body to take care of."

The sound of a bird's song trickled down to his ears. The wind picked up and slapped the dead leaves across the ground, more orange and red leaves flew down from the tree nearest him and swirled around his face.

"Good. Percy will like that," said Thom.

Michael grunted. "We'll see."

He could hear the blood rushing through his ears.

Feeling cold, Michael stared down at the numbers on his cell. What was that phone number again? All his years at Division and he couldn't remember. He pressed seven numbers and waited. 5-4-6-2-7-4-5. The ring on the other end sounded far away and empty, as it straggled on, stopped, and then rang again.

There was a rustle on the other end and the sound of someone's heavy breathing. "Hello?"

* * *

_AN: Ah, don't hate me! :P I can tell you I do have most of the third chapter written, so there will be more to post when I get the chance. Thanks for reading! :) Isn't NIKITA just the bestest show ever? :D_


	3. Heart Break

_Wanted to post this before finals next week. Was fairly pleased how it turned out. __Enjoy!_

_

* * *

_

**3. Heart Break**

Alex sat in the computer lab by herself. Everyone else was at dinner, but she wasn't hungry. The clatter of her hands across the keyboard sounded loud to her in the empty room.

_Sensei? _

She waited. Nothing. She could hear the hum of the computer in front of her.

_Nikita, where are you?_

_

* * *

_

Michael and Birkhoff were in Percy's office.

"You confirmed the kill?" said Percy. He leaned against his desk, his arms folded across his chest.

"Yes," said Michael. "I called Roan to take care of it."

"How did she die?"

"A chest wound from the car crash. Internal injuries. A head wound. She wasn't wearing a vest." Michael shifted on his feet. His eyes flickered away and then back to Percy's. "It wasn't quick."

"So there's no way that she could be alive?"

Michael's jaw clenched. "No. Nikita's dead."

Birkhoff slumped against the table, which was behind him and Michael. He looked sad. "Niki's really gone, huh? I guess she didn't have nine lives…"

"Shut up," said Michael.

Percy's eyebrows rose.

Birkhoff snorted. "Touchy…"

"Yes," said Percy as his gaze wandered over to Michael. "Wonder why that is?"

* * *

"Someone stole the body," said Roan, as he sat in Percy's office holding a bandage across a gash on his forehead. One side of his glasses was broken. Blood had trickled through his fingers and dried dark on the side of his face.

"Robert is dead. Whoever it was shot him in the chest. The car ran off the road and into the guardrail. They were in and out in less than five minutes. Nothing said, nothing left behind. My guess it was the CIA."

"You didn't recognize anyone?"

"No. I was passed out."

Percy grunted as he paced agitatedly around the room. "She may be alive then. I was afraid of this." He sat down at his desk and poured himself a drink. "Go to medical and send in Amanda for me."

* * *

Amanda stepped up next to Percy as he stood at the window looking down at Michael and the recruits. Michael was showing the recruits how to break their opponent's neck with their bare hands.

"He passed the lie detector test," she told him. "He honestly believes that he killed her. He thinks Nikita is dead."

"But she's not?"

"It's possible."

"You think he arranged it? Bodies don't just get stolen."

"We've been worried that Nikita's been working for the other side for a while now."

"And this is proof?" Percy chuckled dryly and took another swig of his drink, the ice clinking in the glass. "If she's alive…"

"It wouldn't be Michael's fault."

Percy grunted. "Of course not."

He stared down at Michael, who now stood at the sidelines observing two young women fighting. One of them was Alex. Michael's arms were crossed against his chest, his face distant, unreadable. "It's _never_ his fault," said Percy.

"He's hiding something obviously," said Amanda.

Percy turned away from the window as he took another pull from his drink. "Of course he is. Let me know if there are any changes."

He walked away towards his office.

* * *

Nikita opened her eyes and all she saw was white.

A hospital bed's white guardrail. White bed sheets. White bandages around her hand. She heard something beeping; there was a heart monitor to the right of her head. Even the walls of the room were white.

A few book cases were pushed against one wall and there was a large window with white curtains at the foot of the bed, where sunlight streamed in. There was a brown desk next to an open door way.

She heard footsteps and her heart beat sped up. Where was she?

There was a soft, chuckle, distinctly male. For a moment she thought of Michael, hoped that it was him, but she knew it couldn't be. Knew it wouldn't be.

A man in turquoise colored scrubs came through the door way. He was medium in height and strong looking. He had a thick-neck and reddish skin with short, gray-white hair. He looked to be about in his mid-forties.

"Relax." He chuckled again as he heard her racing heartbeat. "I come in peace." He had an accent. Possibly Gaelic.

"I thought I might have died," said Nikita. She looked down at herself, to the lump of bandages across her chest, to the cast on her left arm. Although she couldn't see it, she felt it, there was a brace on her right leg too, up to mid thigh.

"You almost did."

He grabbed the rolling desk chair and turned it around and pulled it close to the bed. He held her right wrist gently in his hand, mindful of the bandages. He appeared to check her pulse as he glanced at the watch on his wrist. "You have a broken arm and a leg," he said as he pushed the chair slightly away. "Michael was afraid you were gone. When I stitched you up, it sure looked that way."

"Michael was here?"

He shook his head. "He called me. I owed him a favor."

Nikita tried to shift on the bed and she groaned. She felt her skin stretch in places it shouldn't have. "Seems like quite a favor." Her eyes traced the medical equipment. "Yours?"

"My bosses. We're borrowing it."

"Who do you work for? Division? NSA? CIA?"

"Relax, you're safe here."

"How do you know Michael?"

The older man clucked his tongue. He shook his head sadly. "No thanks to the man who saved your life? You should be ashamed. Michael said it was a life worth saving, but now, I'm beginning to wonder…" His blue eyes twinkled.

"What's your name?" she asked him.

He thought for a moment and she almost smiled. How many times had she forgotten her name too?

"Charlie."

"Charlie? Well, Charlie…" The name sounded funny on her tongue. "I would like a drink."

He laughed. "Well, of course you would!"

He reappeared a minute later with a small plastic cup and straw.

"The best I can do I'm afraid," he said as he helped her take a small sip of water. He set the cup on the desk behind him.

"How long?" said Nikita. She settled back into the large pillow behind her head.

"What's that?"

"How long will I have to stay here?" The thought of being cooped up for any extending period of time made her heart race. She needed to get out. Needed to find Owen. Needed to contact Alex…

"Relax, darlin', you'll heal soon enough. That's why Michael called me. We'll get you stitched up and better. Just think…now you'll have more time to read."

"I don't need time to read, I need to-"

"To what? Go fight Division?" His blue eyes twinkled, again.

Nikita felt uneasy. "What did Michael tell you about me?"

The older man sighed and slunk back into the rolling chair. "He told me enough. He's a good man that Michael. We worked together a while back. I knew he always liked you."

Nikita's heart monitor beeped slightly faster in the silence between them. Her eyes found the window. It was open and the wind stirred the white curtains, fitfully. She thought about Michael.

"Cold?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Can't say how long you'll be here, I'm afraid. But you're strong." He gestured toward her chest wound. "No doubt about that. I won't be here with you the whole time though. But I'll have a friend check in on you. She's trust worthy. Don't worry."

"We're at your house?"

"Mm…one of them. We'll take good care of you."

Nikita smiled slightly, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. That's what she was afraid of…

* * *

The next time her eyes flickered open, Michael was there, slumped in the desk chair next to her bed, his arms folded across his chest. The sun had gone down and the dim light of the desk lamp threw shadows across his face.

"I thought I'd killed you. I knew that dose of Ketamine would stop your heart...I wasn't sure if it worked."

She swallowed. All moisture had somehow left her throat.

"Your friend Charlie is nice," she said, more for something to say than anything else.

He snorted. "You should have let me die, Nikita."

"You think I want to stand by and watch you waste yourself?"

He stood up and the desk chair slammed into the wooden desk behind him. "You should have. It wasn't your business-"

"We're still friends, Michael, why can't you accept that?"

His face was cold as he stared at her and then he clenched his jaw and he avoided her eyes, but not before she saw all the hurt there. _Oh, Michael._

He wore a gray suit and tie. She wondered if he was on a mission.

"What did you tell Percy?" she asked him.

The beeping of her heart sounded loud in the room between. Wind whistled in the cracks of the window at the foot of her bed.

"He thinks I am looking for your body." She watched his mouth twitch. "Apparently it was stolen. Roan's hurt."

"What a shame."

Michael's smile disappeared faster than it came. His jaw clenched. "Percy will find out that you're alive."

She looked down at the bandage on her hand, reached up and felt the one on the side of her forehead. "I know.

"I need you to lie low for now."

"I can barely move."

"We should have tried car accidents years ago to slow you down," His mouth twitched as he looked down at her, helpless in the hospital bed, and then his face darkened. "Or maybe it was because Owen was driving."

"Did you cancel him?"

He folded his arms across his chest. "No, he's alive. He left you in the car as he ran off."

"He's a cleaner," said Nikita.

"He's a coward," said Michael.

"You won't find him now."

"Not unless you help me."

"I'm not going to help you find Owen."

"He nearly killed you," growled Michael. "He's a threat. If he reveals what's on the black boxes…"

"He won't. Not without me."

He kicked at the chair, irritated. "Why do you trust him?"

"Because he's not like Percy or Roan or anyone else in Division that doesn't know how to live."

His eyes were dark as they stared at her. She couldn't read the emotion there.

"You're not like them either, Michael. What are you going to do when Percy finds out that I'm still alive? Let him cancel you?"

He clenched his jaw. "He won't."

"We'll find Kasim together, you don't have to stay there-"

"Don't," he cut her off. "We don't play on the same sides anymore. I save you, you save me. It's got to stop."

"Then help me."

"It's not that simple." His eyes were sad as they found her face. "I can't protect you anymore."

"I can take care of myself."

"I never wanted to hurt you," he said quietly.

"Michael-"

He cleared his throat as he avoided her eyes. "You'll be safe here. Charlie is CIA. We worked together when he was still just a soldier and a medic, working for MI6. You might owe him a favor after this."

"I thought the favor was for you."

His mouth twisted, his eyes were sad. "Something to consider, Nikita." He slipped out the doorway and down the hall.

She waited until she couldn't hear his footsteps any longer and then the tears slipped quietly down her cheeks.

* * *

Michael thought about the first time he had seen her hurt as he walked down that hallway, down a flight of stairs and out into cool, night air of the New Jersey suburbs. The wind snapped the lapels of his jacket, slapped at his clean shaven face.

She had been at Division for almost a year and a half. Her hair was shorter then, her face not as hard. He had loved the sparkle that came to her eyes. The fire that she seemed to have, and still did.

She had been teasing a new recruit. Some Johnny-know-it all, who was convinced he knew everything about self-defense and was ready to take on the world. Nikita asked the recruit if he wanted to spar.

"Don't get cocky," Michael warned her and then smirked at the irony of such a statement.

She grinned over her shoulder at him and then turned around and the bastard punched her in the face.

It made Nikita angry. In the next instant, she had the recruit face down on the mat with his arms pinned behind his back. "Only cowards hit people in the face when they're not looking," she hissed close to his ear. She twisted his arms tighter as she dug her feet into the back of his knees.

"Nikita," he called over to her. "Let it go."

But the recruit wasn't going to. He snapped his head back into hers and tugged her arm so hard she cried out in pain and crumpled to the mat. He had wrenched her arm out of its socket.

"What'd you do?" growled Michael to the recruit as he pushed him to the floor and out of the way.

"Michael," gasped Nikita, cradling her arm, where she sat sprawled on the mat, he watched a tear trickle down her face.

"Come on, we'll get you to medical."

"Sir, I'm sorry-" said the recruit.

"Go see Amanda," growled Michael, not looking at him.

"I didn't mean-"

"Just get out of here!"

Michael walked with Nikita across the room and out in the hallway.

"I can go by myself," she gritted at him.

"Sure you can. You can barely walk straight."

"Michael-"

"Shut up and let me help you." He put his arm around her waist and she slumped against him, her arm cradled across her chest.

"It hurts-"

"I know."

"You should have let me finish the bastard," she gasped.

"It looked like he was doing pretty well for himself."

"I had him," she insisted.

"I told you not to get cocky. He's strong."

"I could've taken him."

"I'm sure you would have."

Her face was pale as she bit her lip. He knew it was because she was afraid she would start crying again. He could see the tears in her eyes, threatening to spill over.

Her eyes met his and he nearly stumbled on the smooth, concrete floor. He wanted to throw himself at her feet then and shatter into little tiny bits. Offer his life to her as he crouched on his knees at her feet; cradle his heart from his chest for her in his hands, warm and fresh and still beating.

He didn't want to believe it.

He was falling in love with her.

* * *

The air was cool on his neck as Michael took his cell phone out of his pocket. A car's headlights illuminated his face for a brief moment, before passing on by him. The wind rattled a large, metal garbage can at the end of someone's driveway. He called Percy. It was his job to tell him that Nikita was dead. He knew it was his job to make sure that she was going to stay that way once and for all.

* * *

_AN: Thanks for reading! It's a little bit more melancholy than what I was going for, but I think that was in response to tonight's episode. I loved every minute of it, but...Thom..._ :'(


	4. Second Chances

_We have this week's episode of Nikita, Episode 13: Coup De Grace, to thank for this update! I thought it was a great episode! I was suddenly inspired and decided not to do homework and, yeah, it has been such fun! See, I just knew it. Michael lovves her. :P Anywho...enjoy! ^^_

* * *

**4. Second Chances**

Nikita sat propped up in bed, her computer on her lap. She twirled a black pen in her fingers as she waited impatiently for Alex's reply.

"Thank God! Thought you were dead!" was her protégé's reply in the message box.

"I know," Nikita typed back. "I'm sorry. Took me longer to get to a computer than I thought." A week had passed and she had hardly noticed.

"You okay?" wrote Alex.

"Yes. Mending. Safe…thanks to a friend."

On the other end, Alex sighed over her keyboard and leaned her head against her hand. She had been so worried. She remembered the night that Michael and Thom returned from their mission, when she learned that her mentor and friend was possibly dead…

* * *

_Desperate for information, she found Thom in the locker rooms, sitting on a bench by himself, his hair wet. He was wearing sweats and a white t-shirt._

_"What are you doing? Did you take a shower?"_

_He looked up at her and she couldn't tell if he was happy or sad or even glad to see her, the latter part caused a strange sense of disappointment. What she could read, underneath the part confusion and part concern, was the turmoil in his eyes._

_One thing she knew about Thom for certain was that he would suffer in silence no matter how much pain he was in._

_"I was working out," he said._

_She plopped down on the bench next to him. "Mission a success?"_

_"Yeah, yeah." He stood up. "Look, I can't really say much about it to you, Alex. I have to report to Michael, before I head home."_

_"Home?"_

_"Out." His eyes met hers and then away. "I'll see you later." His mouth clenched._

_"Thom, wait." She put a hand on his arm before he could turn away. "Did you get her?" She tried for a vicious smile and knew by his expression it wasn't quite right. "Is that bitch dead yet?"_

_Thom swallowed. "Yeah. Yeah, we got her. She's gone, Alex."_

* * *

She could hear Birkhoff's footsteps behind her and she sat up. Her elbow slipped on the table, causing her arm to fall forward across her keyboard and the shell program conveniently disappeared underneath her fingertips.

"Rise and shine morning glory," he said, his voice carrying across the room of silent recruits working at their computers. "Looks like sleeping beauty here has already finished her homework." He leaned close. "Is it easier to crack the codes when you're already a crack head?"

Across the aisle in front of her own computer, her hair in pigtails, Jaden snorted.

The rest of the recruits were silent, as they all glanced at her and Birkhoff, but Alex could still hear hands moving methodically across keyboards. Alex glanced up and Michael was at the railing, his eyes on her face.

She didn't flinch. "Some codes are just easy to crack than others," she told Birkhoff. She could practically feel Michael's smirk.

"Birkhoff," said Michael before the computer genius could form some sarcastic reply. "Percy wants to see you."

"Scatter eggheads!" called Birkhoff as he headed up the stairs.

A guard appeared at Michael's side then. The guard, all dressed in black, a gun on his hip, leaned in close and said something quietly in Michael's ear. With a tightening of his mouth, Alex watched as the two disappeared out of sight.

* * *

Michael crossed his arms as Amanda stood next to a medium size television. One of ten or so lined up against a wall in front of a large desk with three chairs. A man with long brown hair and black rimmed glasses sat in one of the chairs and chewed on the inside of his cheek.

"Percy said you wanted to see me," said Michael.

"Bring back any fond memories?" Amanda said as she gestured toward the TV's black monitor at her right.

Michael's jaw clenched. "What do you want Amanda?"

"Bernard."

The man at the desk pushed a button on the keyboard in front of him and the video on the TV showed Alex and Thom together in the locker room. Thom's head was in his hands as Alex sat next to him, her hand on his shoulder, her face very white. She looked like she was in pain.

"I didn't know we were spying daily on the recruits now," said Michael.

"Watch," said Amanda.

Michael watched in silence as Thom lifted his head out of his hands and Alex clutched her hand to her chest. Her body looked like it had turned to jelly as she slid off the bench and into a pool on the floor. Thom struggled to catch her as she collapsed. He gathered her up in his arms. She was shaking and what appeared to be sobbing. They watched in silence as Thom rocked her back and forth. Amanda turned off the television.

"She had another panic attack," said Michael. Bernard turned back to his keyboards and monitors, completely forgotten. "I thought you fixed her."

"You know their relationship. This is from several days ago. He was probably talking about your recent mission. Now, why would our young Alex have a panic attack just because she's learned that Nikita's dead?"

"You think she's the mole," said Michael. "Thom is a good agent. He wouldn't talk about missions."

"He also has weaknesses. Just like other men, he has weaknesses."

"Perhaps the closeness of the situation was too much for Alex, considering…"

"Alex doesn't have a problem with intimacy, she has a problem with control."

His expression didn't waver. "What about you Amanda? What's _your _problem?"

But he didn't wait for her reply as he stormed out of the security room. He didn't care. He didn't look back. Her face was cold and hard as the steel doors thundered heavily to a close behind him.

* * *

In his mind's eyes he saw her in that jail cell, dirty and alone. Her hair in straggles around her face, her eyes dead as they stared right through them. But there was something in them, something behind that glaze that told him those dark eyes could be something more and certainly were already.

"She'll do," he told the prison guard, aka part-time Division agent who'd given them the heads up. "Make the call to Percy."

When she woke up days later, supposedly dead, alone and angry, he knew he had been right. When she flew off the bed, punched him hard in the chest, kneed him in the groin, he knew. Even when he smelled her sweat, smelled the prison and drugs in her hair.

"You don't normally get a second chance at life," he had growled to her as he pinned her down on the floor with both hands. "So I'm only going to say this once, and you better listen closely. You do that again and I will kill you myself. That I can promise you."

* * *

Alex reminded him so much of Nikita. He thought about what she said to him the night that he and Thom had returned to Division for debriefing. The night when he was still trying to shake the blood off his hands. Nikita's blood.

_He had found her in the training room by herself, working her body back and forth as she pummeled the bag with all her strength, but she was tiring herself out more than anything._

_He folded his arms across his chest. "You'd get better results if you slowed down," he observed._

_She shot him a glare. "What do you want?"_

_"It's after hours, Alex. You shouldn't be here."_

_"So, what are you going to do about it?"_

_He stared at her, noted her defiance, the fury in each hit to the punching bag. "Go to bed Alex, I'll give you about five minutes."_

_He didn't get far before he heard her voice behind him.  
_

_"You were in love with her, weren't you?"_

_He turned around, his eyes dark. "I gave you five minutes. I don't know what's going on with you Alex, but I'll give you another two to walk away."_

_"You liked it, didn't you?"_

_He knew it was coming before she did it. He deflected her fist with his arm and shot out with his own, but she turned to the side and kicked him in the chest. He grunted as he grabbed her ankle and twisted. She fell to the mat with a cry. She didn't get back up._

_"It's never easy when someone you love dies," he said, his voice low, dangerous. He stood over her, where she lay crumpled on the mat. "I'm sure you out of all people would know that. Would appreciate how fragile second chances are."_

_"Michael I-"_

_He was surprised to see the tears in her eyes, but he didn't show it. "Now, you're going to tell me here and now why Nikita's death is so important to you and why that causes you pain."_

_Alex could hear the blood pounding in her ears as all of the life in her seemed to be sucked out of her and into the floor at her feet._

_

* * *

_

Alex's fingers raced across the keyboard later that day.

"I knew you had to be alive even before you contacted me," Nikita read Alex's message as she sat in bed, a spiral notebook open next to her computer. Her small laptop was propped up on her knees on her lap, her head bunched up behind three pillows. The window at the end of her bed was open, and she felt the cool breeze that stirred the thin white curtains on her face.

"Something in his face," the message continued. "It seemed hopeful."

Hopeful…thought Nikita. She supposed at one time, Michael had been that way.

"But you're okay," Nikita typed back. "You're safe?"

"I told him your name reminded me of an old family member's. He seemed to buy it. Amanda…not so much," was Alex's reply.

"Percy?"

"He doesn't seem to care."

"Don't underestimate him. He's more observant than he lets on."

Nikita's hand slipped on the keyboard. She thought she heard the sound of branches snapping. A car pulled into the driveway then in the house next to hers. She heard the loud chatter of kid's voices and the sound of many car doors opening and closing. The neighbors were home. Great. She'd been listening to them coming and going for the past few days. Who has time for five kids anyway? Her eyes returned to the computer screen.

"Noted," Alex had written. "What now?"

"Lay low. No more surprises. Does Michael trust you?"

"Yes."

"Good. Keep it that way." Her hand traced over the keys and then she heard the definite sound of a male's voice directly outside her window.

"_Fuck_," the voice said.

She dropped her laptop to the end of the bed and scrambled one armed for the gun in the drawer of her bedside cabinet. Her broken leg and arm were still healing, so she was a bit slow as she threw the blanket back and hobbled out of bed in her cast and nightshirt, her cast-less leg was bare. She tucked the gun behind her back as she leaned against the wall next to the open window.

There was the sound of branches scraping against the side of the house and then a blur—a body dressed all in black flew into the open window, rolled and then sprang to his feet. Nikita stepped forward and pressed the gun against the side of the man's head. "Hood down."

The man's hands quickly brushed back the hood, which hid his face and revealed—

"Owen?"

He couldn't help it, he grinned as her eyes met his. "We need to stop meeting this way." He felt cold metal press against his temple in response. "Whoa, relax, it's just me."

"Somehow that doesn't make me feel any better."

"I thought you were dead," he said.

"I was. For about a minute."

"How was it?"

"You tell me."

"I knew Michael would let you live," said Owen quickly. "I brought you a present."

"Did you kill Ari for me?"

"No."

"Must not be a very good present then."

"It's black."

Nikita's gun lowered and she slumped against the wall then, suddenly exhausted. Owen noticed the whiteness on her face, the clench of her mouth. She held her stomach like it would burst into a million pieces.

"Broken ribs too, huh?"

"Yeah," she gritted and hobbled back to bed. He tried to help her, but she pushed his arm away.

"That because of me?"

"Long story," she said as she pulled the blanket back across her legs. She set the gun on the bedside cabinet.

"Sorry."

"Yeah, me too."

"Care to tell it?"

"Have a seat," she gritted. She settled back into her pillows, slowly. "I'll tell you. But I want my present first."


End file.
